Ch. 2 The War Wizards Nightmare

And each time you are killed chasing your childish ideal, each time you die the rot will grow. Let's see how long this realm lasts, shall we? - The man in black, Chaos

A dark cloaked wraith that had a face with no features yet had a crimson undulating sigil in front of its face. This was the Taken King, Eclipse. It's clawed hand held a burning black and white flame up to the chest of a scarred and chiseled chest of a man held up by chains that tore through his arms and hands. Blood eerily dripped from newly made wounds that had a pure white misty flame that began undulating at the base, sealing and healing the wounds. {(Your Cold pale flesh was to be a feast for maggots. But they will have to wait, I'm not finished with you, not yet. We will leave nothing green left, only cold. My frost covering the world, your blade tearing down the rest. Soon that last light will go out. Now go back to their realm my pestilence, you will become what you were meant to be. My new Mistborn King)} Slashing the man with the claws, from shoulder to chest with the clawed and burning hands the man had a mark scarred into his body, mist bled from the wounds pooling with the mist upon the ground. A great a dark shadow swarmed and writhed along the surface, seemingly ablaze with flame. The shadow eventually mottled creating a scarred brand of black scales. The mist pooled and eddied around the chained form. The man's eyes suddenly opened blazing azure and slit like that of dragons. He glared at the Eclipse with ire. Thought he swirling cloaked Taken did not flinch or react in any way he was mildly surprised at the entity that the man was a vessel to. He removes the chains from his own body and created a tear forcefully through Braize. All the while he stared at the Taken. {(Feel free to take him he has served his purpose for now.)}He then awoke from Braize.

He awoke with mist covering the ground, he was standing and clothed in his old clothing, unmarred as always upon the exit of Braize. The Mist coiled around him as he walked through the battlefield turned graveyard. This was the realm called by all as the underworld, specifically it was the area close to the area owned by the Devils. This area was known as Hell by the rest of the supernatural. He remembered the blazing sun, crimson in a gunmetal sky and his own seared eyes the only thing to witness such horror, mist coiling into the distance all while snow fell in the red light. When he made it through the eternal winter that was Braize there was no preamble, no premonition, it was just gone: All faded to silence. Before he realized it tears began to pour from his eyes. Why was he crying? What was this pain in his chest that was so unbearable? This pain of exiting? He held his hands out in front of them and could feel the flesh being rent from his body, it burning as white-hot chains and hooks tore through his body. Long white scars crisscrossed all the way up to his arms. They throbbed more than the others. His hands shakily were lowered and he saw the new war taking place in front of him. He had accomplished his goal, did he not? What was it, this pain? He knew the answer. The answer he ignored for so long. Always deciding to turn his back on the truth in front of him. His eyes widened as he understood and accepted it. "Why? This is the answer which I had been led to? After everything, I have done to… Save them? To achieve what I shouldn't have been able to achieve in so long, this is the truth? Everything I fought for- Everything I lived- No, Everything I died for over and over again… was truly for nothing. "That every day I spend seeking to save them, is a lie?" And yet somewhere within himself, something spoke. A memory perhaps? 'You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life. Leave from here. Braize is what you deserve.' He grits his teeth feeling that of overwhelming despair and anger. He, who was betrayed by everything. Even his own ideals saw the path his road had taken him and he had found out the truth of life is always inexorably tied with that of death. He blinded by confusion saw the winged beings and saw that as only a threat and on instinct kill all of them and he did.

"It was far too easy. Death comes far too easy." Blades with legends and stories greater than even their wielders lay strewn around the white rock and sand smoldering in white mist and the tips of the blades white and wispy. Clearly hot and burning as if shot from some great weapon. The only tombstones for their wielders whose bodies lay broken and mangled around the onyx-clad man. Blood arced in great swathes and pooled and drained down the thirsty white fathomless dunes. A single tree stood in front of the figure surrounded by mist where the bodies lay decaying and leaking soul from wounds. An odd white light nestled within the spiraling ebony trunk humming softly. The entire ground around the tree in a circle still simmered with shadows within the mist. His cloak was interesting. It was made in order to obscure his figure and so prevent them from being seen. It is a hooded garment made from a lightweight material and consisted of ribbon like strips of dark gray cloth sewn together at the shoulders and chest. The ribbons wafted softly in the wind, its hood pulled up. The bodies were of the supernatural marked by the wings of various design protruding from their backs. His blade was stained darker by the blood of those that he has killed and an undulating black mist hung off the massive blade. It leaked like liquid fire and rose as if smoke. The blade was massive around seven feet in length. The figure flicked his blade to remove the blood, but like always the now stained blade had consumed the vitality of its a victim. Regardless he smoothly sheathed the darker than black blade with a small click sounding out as hilt made contact with the sheath on his belt, instantly the black mist stopped falling off of the blade as the black was swallowed by the silver of the sheath. After this swift motion, he gazed at his hands and still could feel the pain and see the demon-like Taken tearing into his flesh. His hands began to tremor again as his scars throbbed. He clenched his hands into a fist to stop the noticeable sign of weakness.

His eyes widened following a whisper of wind. Eerily large white ravens lay around the resting figure. The mist seemed to flow off of them and his own fog rose around the outcropping that the fight had taken place on mingling with that of the wraiths. It swirled around him and eddied there. The raised ground where the man and tree sat upon was like a stain on this reality. The white sand was marred by what looks like obsidian shards tearing upwards towards the sky. As if the land was from somewhere else. He was broken, he searched for his name and yet could not remember. He had forgotten his own name his father gave him. "Who am I? I . . . I am. . . an Arisen. An Arisen of the Almighty. The War Wizard, I was in Braize." His eyes widened "The Desolation has come. Oh, God . . . it has come. And I have failed." The man seemingly collapsed to his feet, resting his arm on one raised leg he sat there breathing deeply against the small tree, inhaling the smoke and chill of the realm that he fought in and remembering a part of him seemingly still in another realm. All the while the ambient sound of the occasional boom of thunder and magic in the distance.

His mistwraiths larger and far more deadly than most natural creatures lay about him on the lone tree, the bodies, and rock outcropping. Unbeknownst to the tired man two much larger creatures flew above the resting figure, they were ravens and clearly of supernatural origin. The Ravens still did not cry out and stayed silent watching the Ravens with idle curiosity before turning to their weary master. A raven alighted on his shoulder and let out a click. He turned to it and stared the beast down before feeling something. In a scramble causing the bird to take flight feeling for his necklace burn from under his cloak, he reached for it like a starved man grasping for food. As he pulled it out he noticed the slight wispy smoke rising from around two feathers tied there. A third item adorned the necklace, it is a perfectly carved obsidian fragment. The soulstone was created by Auriel as a final parting gift when he left for the last desolation. It glowed inwardly with a gray-blue luminescence that signified souls. The hooded figure looked to the sky remembering. Two Ravens almost double the size of his familiars. Each of these ravens he knew from even the earliest memories of his childhood. His watchers, his oldest friends. One of these watchers had the title of, Huginn or Thought, had feathers as black as the night that glinted with silver. The other with the title of, Muninn or Memory, had feathers of silver-white that faded to black. He let out a whistle and the ravens dove. As they neared him they slowed and then burst into a flurry of their feathers. What replaced their forms was that of two beautiful women who once were simple maids to some death goddess, but ascended to that of phantasmal entities. Huginn was originally known as Restia, currently, her milky white skin was covered only by about four necklaces wrought with rune inscribed beads and a single feather from her sister so as to always know where the other was. Restia had black hair that fell around her ample rear and bright silver eyes. The necklaces did very little if did nothing to cover her breasts, only the upper part of her massive globes were covered. Her big nipples and wide areola essentially did not have anything in the way of the man's line of sight and them, being completely visible. As for her lower half, Restia had nothing but black heels that would be fit a sorceress and an ornate silver black-belt-panty hybrid. Her sister Muninn was once known as Est and was the nigh carbon copy of her sister. Same pale skin and voluptuous figure. Est had longer hair that reached down to her ankles and the color was of silver-white. Her eyes were the color of dusk and seemingly colder than her sisters, lacking emotion. Her beads, heels, and panty-belt-hybrid were white with obsidian instead of black with silver. Her necklace also having a feather of her sister and resting on her massive orbs.

Each of the women clutched the man who was still dazed from his awakening. Once again he awoke just this time it was with the sign of War and Conquest arising. The last time he awoke it was with the sign of Pestilence fading to Death. He still had his kin then, a flashback of a man pushing him away from an attack as he was awakening once more and then getting torn in two by a monster drenched in shadow and azure fire seeped through his mental landscape.

The man was still lost within himself. So soon after waking he had to kill, had to remember the past, feel the present, and know the future. He remembered the weapons and their story within his landscape and he began to cry each one firmly planted into his subconscious forever, the blades of those of his kin lay around him like accusing tombstones…

The man was remembering the last transition into Damnation. From death to the wispy grays of his blade cairn, to the turbulent white of the blizzard Void was haunting. All the man heard was the wail and then almost comforting mists of his blade cairn blew away and he saw the truth in his ideal that he had entrusted his soul to. He stood in snow reached up around his ankles trying to swallow his strength. He was alone and he would have to bastion himself against the soon coming of Braize and their Taken Kings. They would later call him foolish, he just hoped that they would not have to all die with his sacrifice…

...More regret seeped through as he trudged through the snow that sapped the heat from his skin. Snow like biting needles on his face, arms, legs, and cutting to his very soul. He knew and he wished once again that he did not know. But he did know. He knew that the things you put into your head are there forever. That you forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget. The doubt was now one with him, he would not forget that he doubted himself and the oathpact. Doubt in his fellow Arisen. He had thought that he was ready that he was strong enough, but he was walking down sorrows road, he should have known that the sorrow would drag him down…

...His thoughts. They were quiet because the world around him was not. And yet his damned legs kept pushing forward, trudging through this Niflheim just to push distance on the howling Taken. Each step full of bitter hatred at the universe. Each step declaring he would not go into that good night. He turned a blade as dark as night burning in a black fire which faded to white howling around it...

...He collapsed there in the snow, bodies of Taken lay around him staining the ground in their blue and black blood. He could hear the chittering of the dark incarnate and could already feel the ghost touch of the pain to come. Between Desolations, the Arisen always returned to Braize. At first, the Heralds hid from and fought the Taken. Inevitably, they would be caught and tortured. By the nature of their bond, the Arisen were able to share their pain and withstand the torture together until someone broke. Early on, the Arisen were able to withstand torture for hundreds of years between Desolations. The torture slowly broke the Arisen, however, and the gaps were decreasing to less than ten years near the end. The last gap was less than a year long, with the Arisen breaking as soon as the Taken caught and began the torture. The only Taken to never break was him, the onyx man. The torture the Heralds endured between Desolations included hooks digging into their skin, their skin getting seared off, and their souls burning. The torture began over again every day and this time it lasted for millenniums. And he was alone.

They were always wrong, the interpreters of the dead God, The Almighty, and Maker. The seal and The four horsemen of the apocalypse The seal had already been broken from the very beginning of time. The Four Horsemen, Heralds, or Arisen were just the signs of the awakening of them back into this reality, a warning against what was to come. Each herald had two aspects. Two people for each aspect. The four Crimson Heralds were that of War. The four Ivory of Conquest. The four Golden ones were that of Famine. And the one Onyx one, the war wizard was Death and Pestilence. The appearance of the Arisen or Heralds as they are otherwise known is said to announce the coming of a Desolation. The Desolations were cataclysmic events involving the Heralds and the Void. They were massive, realm-wide wars. After each Desolation, civilizations lay in ruins. Between Desolations, the Heralds are trapped in Braize, or Damnation, being tortured by the demons of the Void. Heralds that die during a Desolation are sent back to Braize; those that survive are supposed to go back voluntarily. The Heralds being there, as established by the Oathpact, prevents the Void from returning to reality. After several centuries of Desolations, during Aharietiam, also known as the Last Desolation, The war wizard chose to hold a passage by a northern waterway by himself, a near-impossible task even for him. While he managed to defend it successfully, he was eventually killed in the fighting because of his wounds and returned to Damnation. However, The man was the only Herald to die in this Desolation. All of the other surviving Heralds, wearied by millennia of torture, chose to abandon the Oathpact, leaving only the onyx man bound to it. They believed that as long as one Herald remained bound to the Oathpact, this could end the cycle of Desolations. The man alone remained bound to the Oathpact and returned to Damnation to be tortured.

As he sat there with two people that he swore to never forget. The girls began crying he finally lost what was left of the original him. His thoughts were dark. A sadness crept from the depths of his being. He had been a hero for so long, but pride had led him down sorrow's road. As he gazed at the crisscrossing white scars his hands nigh unusable something inside him stirred. His mistwraith now around him with mists creeping forward from the hill to cover the land, slowly the shadows' whisper became a voice, a dark call, offering glories enough to make even the brightest Light wander. He knew he was fading, yet he still yearned. On this last day, he sat and watched the crimson sun fall. His final thoughts, pure of mind, if not body, held to a fleeting hope - though they would suffer for the man he would become, the people would remember him as he had been. And so the merciful man hid himself beneath darkness no flesh should touch, and gave up his mortal self to claim a new birthright. Whether this was choice or destiny, is a truth known only to fate. In that cool evening air, as dusk was devoured by night, the nobleman ceased to exist. In his place, another stood. Same meat. Same bone. But so very different. The first and only of his family. The sole forbearer and last descendant of the name Yor. In his first moments as a new being, he looked down at his brother, Conquest's Nightblood, still sheathed. And then drew the blade and the tortured mind and body of a nobleman died and was replaced by the aspect of a cold blade meant to kill. The weapon burst into black flame with crimson howling around the infinitely black. The women around him were startled and looked at this new man as he began to saunter away with pale mistwraiths flocking around him and taking flight. He turned to them and a smile that caused them to shiver in the presence of his power. "So the Desolation came. They seem to be in need of assistance. Shall we go pay that holy bastard a visit?" They were shocked because of the white-gray mark that marred the left side of his head turning his long locks into pale white. They saw the damage that had been done clearly now. Skin pale, eyes blazing Azure, and his hair silvered and white. He changed in Damnation, anyone would when subject to torture like that, but it mattered not the girls were his watchers and would forever serve their master as aids or hopefully in the future as lovers. Together they set off to the distant roar of great beasts.

HE DREAMED…

A new memory replaces the last. . .

Cold gripped and gnawed at my hands. Climbing, seething upward to my heart. "More borrowed blades of the dead? Huh… " His raspy, whispery, low baritone voice thrummed through the air chilling it with the promise of impending doom. A voice that once heard you would be forced to listen and remember. The black blade that dripped oily black smoke, like that of liquid shadows, almost seemed to hum in contentment as it tore through time, reality, and the minor deity in from of him. The smoke is the Breaths that it has absorbed from its victims, twisted and fouled, leaking back out. The small white sheen of it severing molecules as easily as a heated blade through butter as he shifted the grip in his hand. With a shaky breath feeling the cusp of power and truths, truths about Death, the man spoke feeling himself lose something in the process of gaining this power the chill rising further still through his body.

FIRST OF A WORLD…

And another. . .

Bodies lay about the ground around him, staining the air with shadows from his soul and blood from his enemies. His once proud silver armor tainted by the blood of great beasts, kings, gods, angels, and demons. His hooded cowl still shadowed his face, his ribbon-like cloak spread out behind him. The Herald reaped those that would go against the Truths and attempted to reach an equilibrium. Not that one seemed to be in sight anyways.

Once again he lifted his great onyx bow. The bow had been formed from various magical ores and energies as he was studying transmutation magic and alchemy centuries ago and he had enchanted it with various dragonic runes and even had named his creation. The bow, Wish Ender, was his pride and joy and he had "created" it in this reality after looking deep within the world of before. Not known to Dredgen, but the implications behind the weapon were severe. Weapons of Sorrow were believed to be nothing more than a myth. But even the darkest myths are born of some truths, and whispers of the "Wish Ender" have long filled the living with dread. It is thought to be the bow used by death to steal the life of immortals from within the void.

Regardless the Quiet One began surveying the area his eyes alighted and he noticed a flash of white. Forming above his right hand was a tear in reality and a shadowy "arrow" blade appeared. The tip of the "arrow" was alight with his white/blue soul fire. Shadows curled off of it in wisps of smoke. Knocking the massive arrow for the equally massive bow in a display of grace and practiced ease, he took the sight of what had caught his attention and then muttered the first line of his aria.

First comes destruction for I am the bone of my sword…

His right eye alighted enough to pierce his veil of shadow that most Arisen donned, though his mistcloak as he deemed it also obscured his body while treading through the mist. His steel iris now glowed with an ethereal, bluish-white flame. This was the Brand of the Endless, a mark of extreme ire that could subjugate those of lesser power just with a glance. The brand allowed him to "see" reality through the veil of the void, allowing him various abilities and powers. One of which was called Shift, A 10-second magic called Compression Strengthening. A Profane Raiment of seal and release or, repression and liberation. An ability which rapidly decelerates the flow of time in the target to some fraction in the first five seconds, and accelerates it several times in the last five seconds. This allowed him while sniping with his bow to gather much-needed information to ensure his arrows always hit their marks up to 20 km away. Another perk of the brand was Veil, which allowed him to douse himself in the Voids Veil thus making him into essentially a shadow. Laws of reality would bend to his thoughts and he could coalesce himself as "mist" Though it has drawbacks. After all the Brand was also a half finished Weapon of Sorrow created in the Damnation while searching in the Deep for truths about reality. The weapon of Sorrow was one of the first created by himself. Pulling the arrow back as far as it could go. He saw thus he could end. He then hesitated to fire.

'Why did death come so easily to me?' he wondered. It was but a mere moment and then he let loose death once more.

WHERE NO ONE…

And another. . .

A cloak wearing figure sat with his back to a rock on the shattered plains, the battlefield of the Eternal War. Blades and arrows marred the ground around him. Blood spilling from the wounds in which he rent them from. Rain fell in droves as if the Maker was lamenting the loss of life. More bodies stained the ground of the once proud realm. Mist coiled around the down figure. A beautiful woman stood in front of him. Long inky black tresses spilled out of the white hood, unlike Malthael who liked to use his shroud to cover his face Auriel did not and left her beautiful face for him to see. She wore soft, pure white robes and silver armor that Dredgen created for her centuries ago as a present, do to the fact that her absurdly buxom figure did not fit in most conventional angelic cloth and armor and that Dredgen would not allow another to sully his adopted sister in any way.

Her softly glowing red and amber eyes gazed full of sorrow. All while her eyes burned through a forest of forelocks swept to the right of her face that was also framed by her bangs. The eyes were affixed to her down and destroyed adopted elder brother. Her voice whispered out and was taught with confusion and anger. "They told me, they said you would never be back. That you died your true death" Tears began to well, her voice shaking. "Restia and Est said that they found you on the shattered plains, they found your tortured body among bodies. They said they tried to call to you, but you became cold, colder than winter. The look in your eyes terrified them. And here I find you amongst more bodies."Tears streamed down her face in full now. "What, what did they do to you? You were not always this man." She sounded saddened and distraught. As if looking upon a wounded frightened creature.

"True." A deep raspy baritone, that was still somehow quiet enough to miss within the torrential rain.

"Then the math says you do not need to remain this man. You can be other."

"I am other."

"You can be better." She says in exasperation.

"This is better."

"That matter, at best, is subjective."

"Then what? Lesser."

"Some would say."

"But what would you say?" HIs eyes glanced up at her from the shadow of his mistcloak.

[silence]

"All we've seen and now, here with me, you have no words." he looked down slightly, no more than a tilt of the chin

"I have words".

"But...?"

"But you will not like them."

"There is much I do not like."

"More now than ever it would seem."

"Heh."

"I find no laughing matter in your path brother." In further irritation, she raises her voice.

"Only in the journey."

"What brought you here was nobility and your curse."

"These shadows and truths are no curse."

"Then a means to an end? Hope?"

"I would say."

"...You are no longer yourself."

"I am myself. It's who I was that's gone."

"Who you were held all the value."

"To the Arisen, my kin? to the Archaspects? To the TAKEN?" Rage splayed across his taut features.

"No, to me." Tears still streaming and mixing with the rain. He violently looks up and then away from her tear stained face.

"Sis…No you can't bring me back, not till I am finished."

"You do not need these truths brother, my love should be enough." She kneeled down and pushed the hood away from his face, his shroud beginning to fall away. She then gasped. His hair was no longer black. It was now unnatural ivory-white. His eyes where now that of steel rather than the soft and cool brown he previously held. His skin was also marred, most noticeably was his hands which were crisscrossed with scars that stretched up his arms.

"MALTHAEL! W-w-what happened? What did they do to you? And you are using your body for your magic!?"

"It matters not how I get this done, just that it must. Your love, It is nothing but a crutch that will cause us both strife."

"B… But... one that has held you up."

"Yes it has, but only just. And nothing more."

"Nothing more? You were my hero I dragged you away to try and save you from this. Every time you would return I would care for you. Every time you were in Brazie I looked for a way to break the contract. "

"And yet people still die. war still exists. The Light still fades. And the Braize is still bleeding through. There needs to be some semblance of order. They broke me in that pit in the stars, your love kept me aloft, but that old me is dead."

"As it will ever be, that doesn't mean you give in to…"

"To what? Despair? You misunderstand sister, I never gave into despair, nay this is hope for all. If no one else can do this then I Must! I was alone in Braize for a time I can't even fathom. I died an infinite amount of times. I watched as my soul was torn from my body. DAY AFTER DAY AFTER DAY. I WOULD AWAKE ONLY TO BARELY REMEMBER MY OWN NAME, YOUR NAME, AND EVEN THE NAMES OF THOSE WHO FORSOOK ME!" Finally, he raises his voice and she realizes.

"This is not hope brother, I am the Aspect of Hope I would know."

"This. . . This is peace."

"You have blood on your hands."

"How's that any different than prior?"

"Innocent blood."

"Matter of perspective."

"That's the shadow talking."

"And am I not The shadow?" He said looking up to her, finally meeting her eyes.

Cold gripped Auriel's heart and wound it in dread. But this also steeled her resolve. "I would hope not"

"Ya know... These past centuries, you've made an honorable effort. Tried your best to correct my course. But I don't know if it needs correcting."

"And if it does?"

"Could be too late."

"Could be' is a winding path."

"Long way from where I was to where I'm going."

"That is my hope. That there is still time."

"For?"

"Changes. The righting of our path. The cleansing of your shadow and a return to the Light." She then leaned forward and captured Malthael's lips.

[silence]

"Why are you still trying to save me?" His voice but a sigh in the wind.

He sounded so weak and tired. So depleted and weary. It broke her. "It doesn't work that way."

"Am I really that special to you?"

"You are."

"But only as special as any other Arisen."

"You all are special."

"Seems to contradict the word don't it."

"Not in my estimation."

"If we're all special, are any of us special?"

"Is that what you want? To be special?"

"Heh."

"You dismiss, but it's a very serious question. Is that all you're after? Is all of the death worth the balance, Seeker of Truth?"

"Am I not already more than the rest?" He said gesturing around him to the smoldering pile of ash and the black taint of consumed souls in lazy and pain filled manner.

"Looking at you here, now. The smoke, ash, and bone at your feet mark you as so much less."

"Maybe. And yet here you are."

"Meaning?"

"You have been at my side every step of the way."

"Where else would I be?"

"Yet you disagree so thoroughly with my change in perspective."

"If only the change was simply one of perspective. Your "evolution" was no choice. This is not you having come to an understanding after carefully considered thought. This is corruption."

"The shadows?"

"The Void."

"Maybe so."

"There is no maybe here."

"And you think you can save me?"

"I rekindled your Light, once." A blush adorning her alabaster features. "It falls first to me to aid in its survival and if need be, it's support."

[silence]

"I tire of it, these pleas."

"You must try…"

"I tire of this."

"Malthael…"

"That is no longer my name."

"I will not speak the other."

"Neither shall I have to hear of the name of the me that has died, without a say. All I ever wanted was to hold those I cared dearly in my arms once again. Now I have nearly lost you too, Auriel. I can't stop myself from this path, I am the Bringer of Death and the only Seeker of Truth. These are the only thing I am allowed to be since even before knowing the Truth of Life."

"I'm so sorry this has happened to you."

"As am I, for what has been done and what I will do." The Herald raised his right hand. His scars started to burn the ethereal blue-white of his soul fire. It soon tapered into the black of his shadows. The shadows drip off and rise up as if smoke. The destroyed missing half of the Void Brand was now alight.

"Malthael! What are you doing?"

"First comes destruction… I'm sorry but I love you too much Auriel to let you follow me into this last battle. Black flames surrounded her form and in a burst, she was sent far away into her chambers in the Dark Tower"

As he walked to the false crimson sun, cold washed over his mind causing his mind to ice and tense. "Malthael." That name spoken by that women was familiar, as was she. The pain caused him to remember. Static filled his conscious, he felt the hooks once more. He acted differently when talking to that women, like some part of his new her. He even called her sis. Clutching his head as the static got even louder all before it suddenly disappeared and his vision darkened. The truth was what he sought prior was it not? But now, now he was uninhibited. He gazed at the blade summoned from the mists. The black blade leaking smoke and mist that rotted reality. An aria of sorts came to him then, like an old distant and ever so pleasant memory he spoke understanding the truth of such words. "This is my inheritance, my estate: eternity, infinity, the whole universe beneath my sword. This is what I rule: forever and a blade. Dredgen turned and looked to the massive shadowy draconic figure. As he turned to the dragon his vision blurred black at the edges and all light around the dragon darkened to a dull monochrome. His world of shadows was bleeding into reality it seemed.

{[So… you finally figured it out? What you are? What we are?]}

"Yes."

[{...]}

"When did you first show yourself?"

{["Since the moment of you awakening me in the mists of Braize and on the battlefield you fed me with blade and arrow"]}

"Where were you in Braize, you did not help me then?"

{[I wanted you to know how precious life truly was. To know the cost of what we are and what we must do for ju...]}

"...justice."

{[sigh]}

{[Yes, when did you learn that we were the same]}

"It matters not when, just that I know. Brother definitely stirred it."

"…"

"Was Midir your name before or after the Shattering."

{[Midir was the name given to me by Infinity, just as I named her Ophis. However I would not ask of you to change your name Malthael, just as you would not seek to disregard our purpose.]}

I clutched my head as the static came in force."Why must you call me that name? The name of the me who is now long dead."

{[Memories are all that matter to us primordials none more prevalent than one's name and who named them. You will have to accept my power. Your soul has been unraveling since you have arisen from Braize. How much longer our powers will hold you together remains to be seen. You must Ascend, you must become a God. An Aspect.]}

My scars along my arm throbbed with tenacious abandon." You must take something even from me to give. After all, we are Death. All we ever can do is take… So what is the cost?"

{[Yes, I am afraid so you will not be the same after you accept me. Nothing ever is. Though what I do to you I do as mercy. You must become the Deicide and end this conflict. Even it means killing your brother Imperious. He is far too corrupted. And as for the cost, you will learn.]}

"Yes I understand what must be done, after all, The Truth of Life was to Embrace Death."

{[Do you finally know the words?]}

"Yes"

{[Then speak them.]}

Grim and somber Dredgen spoke.

"Shadowed Dragon God of Death and the Void, I give you my blood and heart and allow you to feast on my rage and emotions. Sever the darkened clouds of heaven to burn away reality and unravel the soul's truth. Let us bathe the world in our sorrowful blinding night. And let them know the truth of existence. Yes, let them know that the truth of life is the embrace of death."

The new Lord Death let out a deep sigh. And seemingly not on his own volition he chanted. And with his voice and others rose like the roar of starlight through the abyss.

I WHO HAS ARISEN,

("Your only existence shall be that which I weave for you out of sorrow and woe!")

AM THE PROFANED DRAGON WHO HAS BECOME GOD'S BLIGHT AND STOLE HIS PRINCIPLE OF RETRIBUTION

{Wrap thyself in my embrace and succumb to my infinite love. Let your breath drift from you like candle smoke, dreaming deeper and deeper still.}

I SHALL REPRESENT "ETERNITY", FOREVER MOVING FORWARD. ALWAYS SEVERING THE DARKENED CLOUDS OF HEAVEN. ALWAYS TO BURN REALITY ASUNDER.

(There's truth in the edge of Light, and beneath that truth, a deeper truth, hidden from all but a few. That truth is this: monsters need not fear the night. Do not hunt the monster. Become the monster.)

I SHALL BECOME THE BLACK DRAGON OF THE BLINDING NIGHT

{"The daylight, the starlight; all hope is merely waiting for our dark shroud to return this cosmic play to its primordial black."}

AND I SHALL BATHE THE WORLD IN OUR SORROWFUL BLINDING NIGHT, OUR DARK PURGATORY!

{("LET THEM FEEL EVERY LASH, EVERY CURSE, EVERY TOUCH OF MALICE THAT THEY FIRST DEALT TO US!")}

{["OBLIVION OF SORROW!"]}

{["THEY ARE OF RAGE, BRUTAL AND WITHOUT MERCY. YOU MUST BE WORSE. RIP AND TEAR, UNTIL IT IS DONE..."]}

...With the dark structure looming over him still an impossible size and distance away. His mist swarming the battlefield killing indiscriminately. His frost covered the land leaving nothing green left. A shadow not from the tower, but from a great beast loomed over the battlefield. The Dragon God of the Apocalypse coiled around the dark tower as if guarding the tall structure, its eyes glanced at him for several moments. More than it ever seemed to give any other creature in existence. Moments later a streak of light suddenly shot from the desolate world aimed at the Dark Tower. The red dragon growled as it turned. Then, as if on guard, the creature roared – it was not just an ordinary roar, it was a roar filled with power. The power exuding from the creature easily deflected the incoming streak of light, protecting the dark tower in the process. Then, Wisdom heard a bestial roar. The red dragon growled as it turned to see another monster, looking even more terrifying, coming out from the same spot where the streak of light was seen earlier. The new Aspect of Wisdom could not really make out the entire appearance, but he could say for sure that the beast's size was several times bigger than the first creature he encountered. Moreover, he could have sworn that the creature possessed multiple heads, limbs, and other appendages. Suddenly he realized what the abomination was. It was Trihexa. Just as The Maker had remains, so did The End.
The world around Wisdom then shook as the guardian creature roared and clashed against the beast – the abomination. Despite the difference in size, both of them were equals in terms of strength and power as they kept attempting to overwhelm each other. Then, with the guardian was preoccupied with the abomination, another streak of light crimson in color, flew across the empty dimension, all the way until the light impacted against the dark tower. Strangely enough, when he saw the streak of light, he also heard what sounded to be a blood-curdling scream of pain and the world briefly was aglow with crimson. As soon as he saw the dark tower crumbling apart, everything was static and fuzzy in his eyes and his dragon side was suddenly alight in rage. His family was gone.
As his vision became blurry and rage overtook him, Malthael could only catch glimpses of several figures and sceneries. The darkening gray sky, though not from normal clouds, an ominous storm was brewing before hell came upon the shattered plains. Two dragons – red and white battling against one another, bringing forth destruction around them. Then a figure of a man draped in black, smiling sickeningly as he held a crimson flame that danced within his hand. crimson undulating Arisen light behind the man in black was smiling torching all around him carving a crimson swath to the Dark Tower, it's guardian preoccupied with subduing the rampaging Trihexa. Crimson demons swarming the battlefield, killing indiscriminately.

His eldest brother Valor. He had just killed the only family they ever had known. Wisdom made a choice in his rage. He slaughtered once more with mist, blades, and arrows reaping entire armies by himself. He carved a bloody swath chasing after the man in black that fled to the Dark Tower.